"Aye.," Famh calls back. "Are ye Rory Mor? The Sheriff o' Marrowglen sent our knicht an' us tae help ye."
She takes a quick breath, trying to remember the proprieties for such situations. "Allow me tae introduce Sir Almeric an' the rest o' his retinue. Guid folk aw. Oh, and I'm callit Famh." As she finishes, she can't help glancing wistfully up at the thatched buildings above her, hoping to see the smoke of a cozy fire. The past two nights. and particularly the encounter with the lavallan, have distinctly lessened her enthusiasm for nocturnal travel.
" Appreciated, Aye, I am.", he grinned.
" Fir nicht? Come wi's. We'll get ye squared awa'.", he pointed at the smaller wooden thatched building towards the rear of the compound.
"Whaur d'ye bide? Usually? Sassenach, Nay?"
A slightly startled look crosses Famh's face at the last question. "Well, aye, for a few years past now. But I didna think I'd lost the brogue sae much as tae make it thon obvious! I wis born i' Laird Erek's lands juist south o' Carnasse; but syne I took service wi' Sir Almeric I've been bidin' in the lands o' his laird in Ellesland." She glances at Sir Almeric for a moment, wondering how much to reveal. Seeing his nod, and that he seems reasonably unconcerned, she goes on. "He's come on a visit tae Duke Carnasse, an whan he heard o' yer troubles he tauld us tae see gin we coud help. We spoke tae the Sherriff, an he sent us here tae see ye." A yawn interrupts any further words, and she blinks wearily.
" Mest o'ye look ha' dead. get some kip forst then we'll talk. Theres a lang spell forran sundown."
Sir Almeric nodded , " Appreciated, Master Mor.", he nodded to the others to take the lead here in speaking and....other matters. An isolated farmstead was more their terrain than his own.
With a grateful nod of her own, Famh steps back to her accustomed place before starting off for the building Rory Mor indicated. Being Famh, she can't help looking about her with sleepy curiosity as she walks. She wonders how life in a broch might differ from the seaside farmstead of her childhood; and how the folk here are bearing up under the unusual raids and troubles. And she shares Vardi's concern for the poor goat the lavallan killed; and among other things looks to see if any goatherds, or herds of goats, are among the inhavitants of this broch.
Cainneach listens with all the attention he can muster in his ragged state. While Rory's inquiry regarding home is clearly directed at Famh, Cainneach thinks it best to withhold any information about his own origins. It's unclear how a man in this place might react to a Thulander from the wild west of the mountain ranges. In any case, he was far too tired to get into a serious conversation with anyone at this point. The forester tags along with Famh, sharing her sleepy curiosity about their new location. And, for a change, he'll be thankful to sleep in even a modest bed this evening. Cainneach keeps a reassuring hand on Salt and tries to avoid eye contact with anyone in the broch.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Thatch nods wearily and gratefully to the big man and trudges toward the small building. A little rest was just what he needed. As he moves toward the building, he looks over the broch and its occupants, trying to learn what he can. Perception: 8.
" Fir nicht? Come wi's. We'll get ye squared awa'.", he pointed at the smaller wooden thatched building towards the rear of the compound.
"Whaur d'ye bide? Usually? Sassenach, Nay?"
A slightly startled look crosses Famh's face at the last question. "Well, aye, for a few years past now. But I didna think I'd lost the brogue sae much as tae make it thon obvious! I wis born i' Laird Erek's lands juist south o' Carnasse; but syne I took service wi' Sir Almeric I've been bidin' in the lands o' his laird in Ellesland." She glances at Sir Almeric for a moment, wondering how much to reveal. Seeing his nod, and that he seems reasonably unconcerned, she goes on. "He's come on a visit tae Duke Carnasse, an whan he heard o' yer troubles he tauld us tae see gin we coud help. We spoke tae the Sherriff, an he sent us here tae see ye." A yawn interrupts any further words, and she blinks wearily.
" Mest o'ye look ha' dead. get some kip forst then we'll talk. Theres a lang spell forran sundown."
Sir Almeric nodded , " Appreciated, Master Mor.", he nodded to the others to take the lead here in speaking and....other matters. An isolated farmstead was more their terrain than his own.
With a grateful nod of her own, Famh steps back to her accustomed place before starting off for the building Rory Mor indicated. Being Famh, she can't help looking about her with sleepy curiosity as she walks. She wonders how life in a broch might differ from the seaside farmstead of her childhood; and how the folk here are bearing up under the unusual raids and troubles. And she shares Vardi's concern for the poor goat the lavallan killed; and among other things looks to see if any goatherds, or herds of goats, are among the inhavitants of this broch.
Perception 7
Famhs sees no signs of goats.....coos seem to be the Mors herd of choice.
Rory looks back towards Famh as he heads in, " Yer a bonnie yin, Yer unnae merrit, nae?"
Beaming widely he began to stride up the hill towards the stone arch in the wall.
Cainneach listens with all the attention he can muster in his ragged state. While Rory's inquiry regarding home is clearly directed at Famh, Cainneach thinks it best to withhold any information about his own origins. It's unclear how a man in this place might react to a Thulander from the wild west of the mountain ranges. In any case, he was far too tired to get into a serious conversation with anyone at this point. The forester tags along with Famh, sharing her sleepy curiosity about their new location. And, for a change, he'll be thankful to sleep in even a modest bed this evening. Cainneach keeps a reassuring hand on Salt and tries to avoid eye contact with anyone in the broch.
Thatch nods wearily and gratefully to the big man and trudges toward the small building. A little rest was just what he needed. As he moves toward the building, he looks over the broch and its occupants, trying to learn what he can. Perception: 6.
Tired as he was Thatch doesn't take much in as a walks....
As the big man entered the stone arch he was joined by a pair of male twins........equally as tall as the older man but in their late teens and very well proportioned young men.
They were stripped to the waist and had obviously been roughhousing recently as they were covered in bruises, scrapes and mud.
" Whoina', Da?"
" Fetch yer Maw. Els I'll gie ye a skelpit lug!", said Rory brusquely.
One of the boys ran off.
" An yer a pure nick. Ger waish self.", he said to the remaining boy pointing at a barrel of water nearby.
He turned back to the companions and spread his hands, " Serry, Aim riddy yer t' sein ma wean saw mockit."
Behind him a woman, much shorter and with an equal mane of firey red and tanned skin, emerged accompanying the first lad...
Famhs sees no signs of goats.....coos seem to be the Mors herd of choice.
Rory looks back towards Famh as he heads in, " Yer a bonnie yin, Yer unnae merrit, nae?"
Beaming widely he began to stride up the hill towards the stone arch in the wall.
"No yet, but A'm new-pledgit tae this handsome lad," Famh smiles happily at Cainneach and gives his free hand a reassuring squeeze, "so A'm afraid yer juist a wee bit ower late." She waves her other hand at the Lyften lass with a teasing grin. "A dinnae ken thon Vardi's marriit thouch, ye micht speir her gin ye dinnae have a wife already o' yer ain."
She follows the big man's lead through the gate of his broch, and looks just a tiny bit embarrassed at her joke as she realizes that Rory Mordoes in fact have a wife already. And has had for long enough to father two sons who are now on the edge of manhood. She puts one arm very obviously around Cainneach's shoulders, smiling reassuringly at the fiery-haired woman as she concentrates on not looking like a potential homewrecker.
"The sherriff's sent us tae see gin we coud help wi' the troubles ye've been havin'. Wi' the raids? Our laird's Sir Almeric... a guid man as weel as a guid knicht; A'm Famh; an this is ma intendit Cainneach." Having established this, she goes on to introduce the rest of the retinue to Mrs. Mor by name and title, finishing with, "An' whit shoud we call ye?"
Ori is having trouble following the conversation, between the accents and his mind being ready to call it time to passout, he's struggling. But the man's size catches Ori's attention, not as broad as himself but more then a wee bit taller. Ori hoped that wouldn't become a problem. Big men had there own power struggle amongst themselves, for once you earned, "the big man" status, you were almost forced to defend it. Some put their strengths to the test directly against one another, but that was in extreme cases, and usually it wasn't over until the loser wouldn't be able to make a claim to that title again. Sometimes it was through feats, not always in competition either. But different groups big men meeting was always a struggle and hard to keep status if you lose in any way. Ori was getting the impression that the men's size was going to be more common around here and Ori would seem like no threat, which was good and bad in Ori's mind. Not being able to follow the comments wasn't helping either. Regardless he felt the need to put the club across his shoulders and hand both hands off it, putting the old guns on display. They may not be as impressive as they one were, they are starting to resemble there old size.
"Lang may yer lum reek", Mrs Mor said in return, smiling readily. She studied all of them one by one and seemingly satisfied ushered them on towards the large stone tower.
" I'm Máel"
" You've met the lads? Fingal and Logie."
A short while later the family and the companions were gathered about the table, sharing food and swapping tales for a short time before resting..
The sky grew lighter and as it did so Rorys wife mentioned an old woman who lived out on the downs who might know more of the attacks.
The lads got involved in a lengthy discourse with Sir Almeric about whether Ellesland or Thuland had the best looking folk.
And Rory spoke of his past battles and enquired with the companions about their own exploits on the field of battle.
Vardi does not say much, beyond a mumbled "Thank ye for yer hospitality Ser."owning to being daft with tiredness and not entirely sure she should open her mouth again in any official capacity after the interrogation incident. She does note that Rory is a big fella, and that red hair is not rare in this part of Thurland. His inquiry to Famh does get a silently raised eyebrow from the Lyften lass...
Famh: "A dinnae ken thon Vardi's marriit thouch, ye micht speir her gin ye dinnae have a wife already o' yer ain."
...Sif's shining hair! Tha' world abroad has big fellas in abundance... she thinks to herself as a blush dawns across her cheeks ...But I'm nay planning on setting my hat at anyone on first glance!
Skoggi regards the man in question peacefully, and with a little curiosity, as is the nature of Forest cats, but does not climb down from his perch on her shoulders, which is just as well, given the blush on his owner's face rapidly returns at the sight of Mr Mor's lads moments later. Vardi sneaks a look sideways to Ori, and turns her eyes to the ground in a vain attempt to conceal her ruddy reaction.
As a consequence, she is glad that Mrs Máel Mor does not seem to regard her with a prospective eye for a bride for her fine sons, and gathers her wits enough to ask the lady of the house politely during the meal "Forgive me fer asking an odd question of cattle keeping folk such as yerself but would ye know if anyone hereabouts keeps a goat?"
Famhs sees no signs of goats.....coos seem to be the Mors herd of choice.
Rory looks back towards Famh as he heads in, " Yer a bonnie yin, Yer unnae merrit, nae?"
Beaming widely he began to stride up the hill towards the stone arch in the wall.
"No yet, but A'm new-pledgit tae this handsome lad," Famh smiles happily at Cainneach and gives his free hand a reassuring squeeze, "so A'm afraid yer juist a wee bit ower late." She waves her other hand at the Lyften lass with a teasing grin. "A dinnae ken thon Vardi's marriit thouch, ye micht speir her gin ye dinnae have a wife already o' yer ain."
She follows the big man's lead through the gate of his broch, and looks just a tiny bit embarrassed at her joke as she realizes that Rory Mordoes in fact have a wife already. And has had for long enough to father two sons who are now on the edge of manhood. She puts one arm very obviously around Cainneach's shoulders, smiling reassuringly at the fiery-haired woman as she concentrates on not looking like a potential homewrecker.
"The sherriff's sent us tae see gin we coud help wi' the troubles ye've been havin'. Wi' the raids? Our laird's Sir Almeric... a guid man as weel as a guid knicht; A'm Famh; an this is ma intendit Cainneach." Having established this, she goes on to introduce the rest of the retinue to Mrs. Mor by name and title, finishing with, "An' whit shoud we call ye?"
"Aye, and the dog will listen to my commands. He's more civilized than some of the folk we've run across while making our way here as well. Don't you worry."
Cainneach is first angered at Rory's impertinent question to Famh, although upon reflection, how was the man to know that Famh was already spoken for? Upon immediate further further reflection, Cainneach is then perplexed at the customs of this area, such that a married man might seek to acquire another wife. Throughout, he happily holds Famh's hand.
At the table, he sits and eats quietly, passing scraps to Salt and being polite as he can manage to be.
Thatch instinctively took a step back in the shadows of Ori and Vardi as the two boys, just as large as their father, appeared. It feels like everyone here is a giant! He quickly becomes comfortable around the family at dinner, asking questions on cattle raising methods and adding in to the stories. He shares a far-fetched tale of a white witch that lived in the forest and would appear on certain nights to snatch up children.
As the conversation turned toward the subject of the raids and the lady in the downs, he added questions of his own. “We will have to visit this woman, what can you tell us about her, what does she do out in the downs? And what can you tell us of the attacks? We shared your hospitality and stories, but still know little of what happened here or why we were sent.”
" We'll talk more on the old woman ikvell, dra off ta bed wit ye."
And with that the companions are waved off to their sleeping quarters which consists of a large communal room that has been rigged up with some blankets hanging in the form of 'screens' between sections. Two of the beds are cots....the rest consist of piles of old fleeces, skins and clean hay....the room is warmed by a deep fire pit below a shielded smoke vent in the roof.
( A full Long Rest will take you through to the evening.)
The companions wake in the early evening fully rested and refreshed, pitchers of heather ale sat on the table along with a stew of salt beef, kale and nettle and copious oat cakes.
The two lads were off attending to end of day chores and Rory and his better half held court in the kitchen, " Now, what was it you wanted to know?"
Vardi accepts this knowledge with a calm face, and says "I am sorry ta have troubled ye wi' naught but my own curiosity then, Mistress Máel, a poor exchange on my part for yer family's fine hospitality." in polite response.
She gratefully beds down on a cot large enough to fit her after feeding Skoggi a handful of dried fish and a bowl of water, and passes out, three nights of cat shift work in a row taking their toll on her.
The great cat sits by the fire, dozing a while then yawns and stalks about among the group several times while they slumber, on the lookout for toe-nibbling mice perhaps, or merely alert and curious about the place he finds himself in.
At Rory's query over breakfast, the Lyften lass looks to Ser Almeric a moment, then Sergeant Ori. Meeting with no objection from either, she smiles as she offers "Everything."in reply. She adds, partly in haste to not offer any implied offense to the Mors but partly in fair explanation "Well everything tha' may help us understand as outsiders wha' has come ta pass here that would require our assistance with."
Vardi looks from Rory to Máel as she asks in gentle earnestness "I have heard tha' there has been trouble here of some sort, and I presume tha' trouble is nay from raiders, nor from any known and natural predator. Wha'ere ye can ye tell us of tha matter would be most helpful in finding a proper remedy for it."
Between mouthfuls of heather ale and oatcake (both favorites of hers from of old), Famh nods in support of what Vardi is saying. "Aye, we’d be really thankful for anythin’ ye can tell us. An’ this auld woman ye spoke aboot, too – has she been troubled hersel’ by... whatever’s oot there? An’ whit road shoud we tak’ tae find her when we set off?”"
Vardi accepts this knowledge with a calm face, and says "I am sorry ta have troubled ye wi' naught but my own curiosity then, Mistress Máel, a poor exchange on my part for yer family's fine hospitality." in polite response.
She gratefully beds down on a cot large enough to fit her after feeding Skoggi a handful of dried fish and a bowl of water, and passes out, three nights of cat shift work in a row taking their toll on her.
The great cat sits by the fire, dozing a while then yawns and stalks about among the group several times while they slumber, on the lookout for toe-nibbling mice perhaps, or merely alert and curious about the place he finds himself in.
At Rory's query over breakfast, the Lyften lass looks to Ser Almeric a moment, then Sergeant Ori. Meeting with no objection from either, she smiles as she offers "Everything."in reply. She adds, partly in haste to not offer any implied offense to the Mors but partly in fair explanation "Well everything tha' may help us understand as outsiders wha' has come ta pass here that would require our assistance with."
Vardi looks from Rory to Máel as she asks in gentle earnestness "I have heard tha' there has been trouble here of some sort, and I presume tha' trouble is nay from raiders, nor from any known and natural predator. Wha'ere ye can ye tell us of tha matter would be most helpful in finding a proper remedy for it."
" Roofs torn off and brochs tumbled to the nor'west .......one of those that lived a while swlre it was a Fachan......some say they're a fell breed of Fathach, Fermirians they're cry'd en Glissom, Ay ken."
Between mouthfuls of heather ale and oatcake (both favorites of hers from of old), Famh nods in support of what Vardi is saying. "Aye, we’d be really thankful for anythin’ ye can tell us. An’ this auld woman ye spoke aboot, too – has she been troubled hersel’ by... whatever’s oot there? An’ whit road shoud we tak’ tae find her when we set off?”"
" I'd head west, we can get one o' that lads to show ye."
" Nay, tisn't beast or bogie that'd risk angering her."
That evening, Thatch eagerly digs into the meal provided by their gracious hosts, listening to the conversation as he eats the stew and oatcakes. He frowns at the mention of the suspected attackers and tries to place what could pull down a broch. “What is a Fachan? And what sort of creature can tumble a broch?” He looks over at Famh and Cainneach to see if their knowledge of the area helps.
" Nay, tisn't beast or bogie that'd risk angering her." He looks up sharply. “And why is that? What manner of woman lives out on the downs? I just ask so I don’t anger her myself.”
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
(Not sure how much Cainneach would know about these creatures, will roll for it in case it's questionable in the DM's mind.)
Cainneach eats quickly and quietly, taking in the conversation, but offering little of his own insight. Talk of Fachan and strange hermit women is unsettling, but that was just the sort of business they'd become accustomed to. His appetite is strong, though it felt odd to be eating dinner after just having risen from a long sleep. Cainneach still regrets the decision to shift to their current nocturnal schedule and hopes they will make their next moves during the daylight hours. While eating, the forester keenly observes the demeanours of their hosts and remains polite and deferential throughout. He catches Thatch's glance and returns a look indicating that he feels [TBD - see History below] about potentially confronting a Fachan. Salt seems happy to sit and eat scraps from the table, which he quickly wolfs down in order to avoid any competition from the curious feline.
Insight4 (How do our hosts really feel about the old woman and the creatures?) History11 (What would Cainneach recall about the Fachan and their kin based on his time in the Pagans?)
(Not sure how much Cainneach would know about these creatures, will roll for it in case it's questionable in the DM's mind.)
Cainneach eats quickly and quietly, taking in the conversation, but offering little of his own insight. Talk of Fachan and strange hermit women is unsettling, but that was just the sort of business they'd become accustomed to. His appetite is strong, though it felt odd to be eating dinner after just having risen from a long sleep. Cainneach still regrets the decision to shift to their current nocturnal schedule and hopes they will make their next moves during the daylight hours. While eating, the forester keenly observes the demeanours of their hosts and remains polite and deferential throughout. He catches Thatch's glance and returns a look indicating that he feels [TBD - see History below] about potentially confronting a Fachan. Salt seems happy to sit and eat scraps from the table, which he quickly wolfs down in order to avoid any competition from the curious feline.
Insight7 (How do our hosts really feel about the old woman and the creatures?) History14 (What would Cainneach recall about the Fachan and their kin based on his time in the Pagans?)
( Cainneach is familiar with the Fachan as an entity in old stories and folklore of the highlands.....he doesn't know anyone whose ever seen one though.)
... Cainneach feels great trepidation about potentially confronting a Fachan, but based on what he recalls of the tales told regarding such beings, it seems improbable that they are real. All of which is to say that Cainneach returns Thatch's glance with a look of skeptical fear. He also discreetly, and hopefully reassuringly, takes Famh's hand under the table, as he's certain that she is familiar with the tales of those giants as well.
That evening, Thatch eagerly digs into the meal provided by their gracious hosts, listening to the conversation as he eats the stew and oatcakes. He frowns at the mention of the suspected attackers and tries to place what could pull down a broch. “What is a Fachan? And what sort of creature can tumble a broch?” He looks over at Famh and Cainneach to see if their knowledge of the area helps.
" Nay, tisn't beast or bogie that'd risk angering her." He looks up sharply. “And why is that? What manner of woman lives out on the downs? I just ask so I don’t anger her myself.”
Máel grinned, " Fachan? A great misshapen bogie....tall as a tree or hill in the old tales."
" I don't know of anyone who can ever claim to have seen one in all my days but....perhaps it is true."
" The Old One? I dinnae rightly know.....but she's lived out there since my Ma was wee, tales tell those that cross her end badly."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
To post a comment, please login or register a new account.
A slightly startled look crosses Famh's face at the last question. "Well, aye, for a few years past now. But I didna think I'd lost the brogue sae much as tae make it thon obvious! I wis born i' Laird Erek's lands juist south o' Carnasse; but syne I took service wi' Sir Almeric I've been bidin' in the lands o' his laird in Ellesland." She glances at Sir Almeric for a moment, wondering how much to reveal. Seeing his nod, and that he seems reasonably unconcerned, she goes on. "He's come on a visit tae Duke Carnasse, an whan he heard o' yer troubles he tauld us tae see gin we coud help. We spoke tae the Sherriff, an he sent us here tae see ye." A yawn interrupts any further words, and she blinks wearily.
With a grateful nod of her own, Famh steps back to her accustomed place before starting off for the building Rory Mor indicated. Being Famh, she can't help looking about her with sleepy curiosity as she walks. She wonders how life in a broch might differ from the seaside farmstead of her childhood; and how the folk here are bearing up under the unusual raids and troubles. And she shares Vardi's concern for the poor goat the lavallan killed; and among other things looks to see if any goatherds, or herds of goats, are among the inhavitants of this broch.
Perception 16
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
Cainneach listens with all the attention he can muster in his ragged state. While Rory's inquiry regarding home is clearly directed at Famh, Cainneach thinks it best to withhold any information about his own origins. It's unclear how a man in this place might react to a Thulander from the wild west of the mountain ranges. In any case, he was far too tired to get into a serious conversation with anyone at this point. The forester tags along with Famh, sharing her sleepy curiosity about their new location. And, for a change, he'll be thankful to sleep in even a modest bed this evening. Cainneach keeps a reassuring hand on Salt and tries to avoid eye contact with anyone in the broch.
Perception 12
Active - Player: Sleeping Gods ---- Complete - Player: Masquerade, Teleportation Machine ---- Complete - DM: Extradimensional Spaces
Come join the Worlds of Pphost, a new and growing PbP community! Adventures are currently running in the world of Haven or do some role-playing!
It never hurts to help! ---- PbP: [Rolling Dice] [Tooltips] ---- DDB Content: [Free Adventures] [Encounter of the Week]
Thatch nods wearily and gratefully to the big man and trudges toward the small building. A little rest was just what he needed. As he moves toward the building, he looks over the broch and its occupants, trying to learn what he can. Perception: 8.
.
Famhs sees no signs of goats.....coos seem to be the Mors herd of choice.
Rory looks back towards Famh as he heads in, " Yer a bonnie yin, Yer unnae merrit, nae?"
Beaming widely he began to stride up the hill towards the stone arch in the wall.
" He's rait wi' strangers, aye?", Rory called, fixing Salt with a wary glance.
Tired as he was Thatch doesn't take much in as a walks....
As the big man entered the stone arch he was joined by a pair of male twins........equally as tall as the older man but in their late teens and very well proportioned young men.
They were stripped to the waist and had obviously been roughhousing recently as they were covered in bruises, scrapes and mud.
" Whoina', Da?"
" Fetch yer Maw. Els I'll gie ye a skelpit lug!", said Rory brusquely.
One of the boys ran off.
" An yer a pure nick. Ger waish self.", he said to the remaining boy pointing at a barrel of water nearby.
He turned back to the companions and spread his hands, " Serry, Aim riddy yer t' sein ma wean saw mockit."
Behind him a woman, much shorter and with an equal mane of firey red and tanned skin, emerged accompanying the first lad...
" Whos thas Noo, Rory?"
"No yet, but A'm new-pledgit tae this handsome lad," Famh smiles happily at Cainneach and gives his free hand a reassuring squeeze, "so A'm afraid yer juist a wee bit ower late." She waves her other hand at the Lyften lass with a teasing grin. "A dinnae ken thon Vardi's marriit thouch, ye micht speir her gin ye dinnae have a wife already o' yer ain."
She follows the big man's lead through the gate of his broch, and looks just a tiny bit embarrassed at her joke as she realizes that Rory Mor does in fact have a wife already. And has had for long enough to father two sons who are now on the edge of manhood. She puts one arm very obviously around Cainneach's shoulders, smiling reassuringly at the fiery-haired woman as she concentrates on not looking like a potential homewrecker.
"The sherriff's sent us tae see gin we coud help wi' the troubles ye've been havin'. Wi' the raids? Our laird's Sir Almeric... a guid man as weel as a guid knicht; A'm Famh; an this is ma intendit Cainneach." Having established this, she goes on to introduce the rest of the retinue to Mrs. Mor by name and title, finishing with, "An' whit shoud we call ye?"
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
Ori is having trouble following the conversation, between the accents and his mind being ready to call it time to passout, he's struggling. But the man's size catches Ori's attention, not as broad as himself but more then a wee bit taller. Ori hoped that wouldn't become a problem. Big men had there own power struggle amongst themselves, for once you earned, "the big man" status, you were almost forced to defend it. Some put their strengths to the test directly against one another, but that was in extreme cases, and usually it wasn't over until the loser wouldn't be able to make a claim to that title again. Sometimes it was through feats, not always in competition either. But different groups big men meeting was always a struggle and hard to keep status if you lose in any way. Ori was getting the impression that the men's size was going to be more common around here and Ori would seem like no threat, which was good and bad in Ori's mind. Not being able to follow the comments wasn't helping either. Regardless he felt the need to put the club across his shoulders and hand both hands off it, putting the old guns on display. They may not be as impressive as they one were, they are starting to resemble there old size.
"Lang may yer lum reek", Mrs Mor said in return, smiling readily. She studied all of them one by one and seemingly satisfied ushered them on towards the large stone tower.
" I'm Máel"
" You've met the lads? Fingal and Logie."
A short while later the family and the companions were gathered about the table, sharing food and swapping tales for a short time before resting..
The sky grew lighter and as it did so Rorys wife mentioned an old woman who lived out on the downs who might know more of the attacks.
The lads got involved in a lengthy discourse with Sir Almeric about whether Ellesland or Thuland had the best looking folk.
And Rory spoke of his past battles and enquired with the companions about their own exploits on the field of battle.
Soon the sun was high in the sky.....
Vardi does not say much, beyond a mumbled "Thank ye for yer hospitality Ser." owning to being daft with tiredness and not entirely sure she should open her mouth again in any official capacity after the interrogation incident. She does note that Rory is a big fella, and that red hair is not rare in this part of Thurland. His inquiry to Famh does get a silently raised eyebrow from the Lyften lass...
Famh: "A dinnae ken thon Vardi's marriit thouch, ye micht speir her gin ye dinnae have a wife already o' yer ain."
...Sif's shining hair! Tha' world abroad has big fellas in abundance... she thinks to herself as a blush dawns across her cheeks ...But I'm nay planning on setting my hat at anyone on first glance!
Skoggi regards the man in question peacefully, and with a little curiosity, as is the nature of Forest cats, but does not climb down from his perch on her shoulders, which is just as well, given the blush on his owner's face rapidly returns at the sight of Mr Mor's lads moments later. Vardi sneaks a look sideways to Ori, and turns her eyes to the ground in a vain attempt to conceal her ruddy reaction.
As a consequence, she is glad that Mrs Máel Mor does not seem to regard her with a prospective eye for a bride for her fine sons, and gathers her wits enough to ask the lady of the house politely during the meal "Forgive me fer asking an odd question of cattle keeping folk such as yerself but would ye know if anyone hereabouts keeps a goat?"
"Aye, and the dog will listen to my commands. He's more civilized than some of the folk we've run across while making our way here as well. Don't you worry."
Cainneach is first angered at Rory's impertinent question to Famh, although upon reflection, how was the man to know that Famh was already spoken for? Upon immediate further further reflection, Cainneach is then perplexed at the customs of this area, such that a married man might seek to acquire another wife. Throughout, he happily holds Famh's hand.
At the table, he sits and eats quietly, passing scraps to Salt and being polite as he can manage to be.
Active - Player: Sleeping Gods ---- Complete - Player: Masquerade, Teleportation Machine ---- Complete - DM: Extradimensional Spaces
Come join the Worlds of Pphost, a new and growing PbP community! Adventures are currently running in the world of Haven or do some role-playing!
It never hurts to help! ---- PbP: [Rolling Dice] [Tooltips] ---- DDB Content: [Free Adventures] [Encounter of the Week]
Thatch instinctively took a step back in the shadows of Ori and Vardi as the two boys, just as large as their father, appeared. It feels like everyone here is a giant! He quickly becomes comfortable around the family at dinner, asking questions on cattle raising methods and adding in to the stories. He shares a far-fetched tale of a white witch that lived in the forest and would appear on certain nights to snatch up children.
As the conversation turned toward the subject of the raids and the lady in the downs, he added questions of his own. “We will have to visit this woman, what can you tell us about her, what does she do out in the downs? And what can you tell us of the attacks? We shared your hospitality and stories, but still know little of what happened here or why we were sent.”
" Goats? Nay. Dinnae know narn that keeps me."
" We'll talk more on the old woman ikvell, dra off ta bed wit ye."
And with that the companions are waved off to their sleeping quarters which consists of a large communal room that has been rigged up with some blankets hanging in the form of 'screens' between sections. Two of the beds are cots....the rest consist of piles of old fleeces, skins and clean hay....the room is warmed by a deep fire pit below a shielded smoke vent in the roof.
( A full Long Rest will take you through to the evening.)
The companions wake in the early evening fully rested and refreshed, pitchers of heather ale sat on the table along with a stew of salt beef, kale and nettle and copious oat cakes.
The two lads were off attending to end of day chores and Rory and his better half held court in the kitchen, " Now, what was it you wanted to know?"
" Goats? Nay. Dinnae know narn that keeps me."
Vardi accepts this knowledge with a calm face, and says "I am sorry ta have troubled ye wi' naught but my own curiosity then, Mistress Máel, a poor exchange on my part for yer family's fine hospitality." in polite response.
She gratefully beds down on a cot large enough to fit her after feeding Skoggi a handful of dried fish and a bowl of water, and passes out, three nights of cat shift work in a row taking their toll on her.
The great cat sits by the fire, dozing a while then yawns and stalks about among the group several times while they slumber, on the lookout for toe-nibbling mice perhaps, or merely alert and curious about the place he finds himself in.
At Rory's query over breakfast, the Lyften lass looks to Ser Almeric a moment, then Sergeant Ori. Meeting with no objection from either, she smiles as she offers "Everything." in reply. She adds, partly in haste to not offer any implied offense to the Mors but partly in fair explanation "Well everything tha' may help us understand as outsiders wha' has come ta pass here that would require our assistance with."
Vardi looks from Rory to Máel as she asks in gentle earnestness "I have heard tha' there has been trouble here of some sort, and I presume tha' trouble is nay from raiders, nor from any known and natural predator. Wha'ere ye can ye tell us of tha matter would be most helpful in finding a proper remedy for it."
Between mouthfuls of heather ale and oatcake (both favorites of hers from of old), Famh nods in support of what Vardi is saying. "Aye, we’d be really thankful for anythin’ ye can tell us. An’ this auld woman ye spoke aboot, too – has she been troubled hersel’ by... whatever’s oot there? An’ whit road shoud we tak’ tae find her when we set off?”"
Famh Thrawn Fiadhaich - 'half elven' sorcerer (wild magic) 2, Sleeping Gods - A Dragon Warriors campaign in the Lands of Legend
Quspira Inirali - tiefling cleric (Life domain) 4, Painted's "He'll be the father of my child"
---RETIRED HEROES' REST HOME---
Sae Ivui Nailo - wood elf rogue (inquisitive) 5 , Sea of Death: Captain Hailstorm's Lost Treasure
Ryshraxea "Shra" Naranthi - tabaxi artificer 1, Nyx's Tomb of Annihilation - Group 1
" Roofs torn off and brochs tumbled to the nor'west .......one of those that lived a while swlre it was a Fachan......some say they're a fell breed of Fathach, Fermirians they're cry'd en Glissom, Ay ken."
" I'd head west, we can get one o' that lads to show ye."
" Nay, tisn't beast or bogie that'd risk angering her."
That evening, Thatch eagerly digs into the meal provided by their gracious hosts, listening to the conversation as he eats the stew and oatcakes. He frowns at the mention of the suspected attackers and tries to place what could pull down a broch. “What is a Fachan? And what sort of creature can tumble a broch?” He looks over at Famh and Cainneach to see if their knowledge of the area helps.
" Nay, tisn't beast or bogie that'd risk angering her." He looks up sharply. “And why is that? What manner of woman lives out on the downs? I just ask so I don’t anger her myself.”
(Not sure how much Cainneach would know about these creatures, will roll for it in case it's questionable in the DM's mind.)
Cainneach eats quickly and quietly, taking in the conversation, but offering little of his own insight. Talk of Fachan and strange hermit women is unsettling, but that was just the sort of business they'd become accustomed to. His appetite is strong, though it felt odd to be eating dinner after just having risen from a long sleep. Cainneach still regrets the decision to shift to their current nocturnal schedule and hopes they will make their next moves during the daylight hours. While eating, the forester keenly observes the demeanours of their hosts and remains polite and deferential throughout. He catches Thatch's glance and returns a look indicating that he feels [TBD - see History below] about potentially confronting a Fachan. Salt seems happy to sit and eat scraps from the table, which he quickly wolfs down in order to avoid any competition from the curious feline.
Insight 4 (How do our hosts really feel about the old woman and the creatures?)
History 11 (What would Cainneach recall about the Fachan and their kin based on his time in the Pagans?)
Active - Player: Sleeping Gods ---- Complete - Player: Masquerade, Teleportation Machine ---- Complete - DM: Extradimensional Spaces
Come join the Worlds of Pphost, a new and growing PbP community! Adventures are currently running in the world of Haven or do some role-playing!
It never hurts to help! ---- PbP: [Rolling Dice] [Tooltips] ---- DDB Content: [Free Adventures] [Encounter of the Week]
( Cainneach is familiar with the Fachan as an entity in old stories and folklore of the highlands.....he doesn't know anyone whose ever seen one though.)
... Cainneach feels great trepidation about potentially confronting a Fachan, but based on what he recalls of the tales told regarding such beings, it seems improbable that they are real. All of which is to say that Cainneach returns Thatch's glance with a look of skeptical fear. He also discreetly, and hopefully reassuringly, takes Famh's hand under the table, as he's certain that she is familiar with the tales of those giants as well.
Active - Player: Sleeping Gods ---- Complete - Player: Masquerade, Teleportation Machine ---- Complete - DM: Extradimensional Spaces
Come join the Worlds of Pphost, a new and growing PbP community! Adventures are currently running in the world of Haven or do some role-playing!
It never hurts to help! ---- PbP: [Rolling Dice] [Tooltips] ---- DDB Content: [Free Adventures] [Encounter of the Week]
Máel grinned, " Fachan? A great misshapen bogie....tall as a tree or hill in the old tales."
" I don't know of anyone who can ever claim to have seen one in all my days but....perhaps it is true."
" The Old One? I dinnae rightly know.....but she's lived out there since my Ma was wee, tales tell those that cross her end badly."